


Best Two Out of Three

by TrekFaerie



Series: Spaghetti Threesomes [7]
Category: Django Unchained (2012)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Clothed Sex, Multi, Slice of Life, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/pseuds/TrekFaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three sides of three seasons in the years of 1860 and 1861.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. summer 1860

With the bounty hunting business on the backburner for the time being, Schultz was forced to find a new source of income. Dentistry was the obvious choice; he set up a little office just down the road, settling down next to people who had never even darkened a dentist's doorway, who spent the first few weeks just staring and wondering how nice people like Django and Hildy could get saddled with a crazy old white man like that.

Hildy wasn't sure how much money he made, but she knew it couldn't have been a lot. He was a sucker for a sob story, and once the initial confusion passed, there sure were a lot of those. She couldn't think of a single person in the neighborhood who had actually paid Schultz-- well, that was a lie, if you counted things like chickens and wool sweaters as payments. He didn't make much money off of it, but Schultz really did love that sweater.

He earned his keep another way-- tutoring. When the rich white families living in the other parts of town learned that someone who spoke fluent French and German had moved to Indianapolis, they quickly moved to aquire him as a private tutor for their children. But, Schultz refused to travel any farther than Indiana Avenue, which cut the potential buyers in half; the rest sucked it up and, every Saturday, sent their children, dressed in their Sunday best, to the little makeshift classroom Schultz set up in the front of his office.

Every week, when the lesson finished, he would tell his students to go play with the other children in the street until their parents came to fetch them. Hildy smiled the first time she saw it. Her Schultz liked to act like all the problems of the world were beneath him, and should be beneath everyone else, too. It made her feel good when he tried.

Hildy liked to visit him while he worked. Once John was down for his afternoon nap, she would cross the street and go see what he was up to. Most of the time, he wasn't working at all, but entertaining a group of children-- at some point, he'd gone from an object of ridicule to an object of awe. The point seemed to be around the time the kids realized that Schultz (God forbid he be a normal dentist) had a tendency to carry boiled sweets in his jacket pockets.

They were all sitting in front of the audience, looking up with rapt attention as Schultz animatedly told German fairy tales from memory. She recognized it as the story of Frau Holle, and stayed in the back of the group, listening, until the main character's lazy stepsister was forced to return home covered in pitch, not gold.

It was at that point that Schultz noticed her. "Brunhilde, what a pleasant surprise!" He shooed the children away and offered his "niece" his arm, walking with her into the front office where they had a bit more privacy. "Whatever do I owe the honor?"

"Oh, John's asleep, Django's down by the factories... Guess I'm just a little bored." Boredom was a new feeling for Hildy, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

"Then allow me to occupy you." Thankfully, they still had the precense of mind to wait until they were in the office proper before they kissed.

It always smelled like liquid bleach, with just a little bit of blood underneath, but they had all been hard-pressed to find places of mutual solitude during their time in the city. At least the operating table was clean; Hildy had once refused because of the mess on it, and Schultz wasn't one who needed to be told things twice.

Hildy never undressed; Schultz merely took off his belt and lied back on the table, looking up at Hildy like he did that night back in Candyland, when he had known that he loved her but didn't know that anything else was possible yet. With her dress hitched up around her thighs, Hildy climbed on top of him, arms on both sides of Schultz's head, her hair falling into his face.

He smiled and cupped her face with his hand, letting a thumb run across her lips. "My queen of the Valkyries," he said in a reverent tone before kissing her again.

The walls of every house in the neighborhood were hardly more than thin wood and a coat of paint, so they were sure to keep quiet as they grasped tightly at each other. Hildy would grab hold of his beard and kiss him hard enough to stop his moans in his throat; Schultz would throw a leg over her back and pull her in impossibly close, impossibly deep, until he came inside her at the sound of the front door's bell twinkling.

If anyone else noticed her walking funny as she returned to her house, or the wrinkled state of his clothes, they didn't say anything.


	2. fall, 1860

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all stories have happy endings, but endings can change.

It's a busy way of living, this freedom business, but Django and Hildy always make time for each other. More often than not they spend the afternoon in each other's arms, because Hildy's mornings are spent with the baby and Django's nights are spent working. There was a factory that once made cloth but had made the slow transition into munitions, and though the work was hard and the pay was shit and working for white people again made him want to spit, it was the first honest paid work Django had ever done. And nobody ever seemed to notice if a few bullets were missing from the shipments.

They made love slow and sweet, like they had all the time in the world. He knew all the little spots that made her gasp and laugh, and she knew just the way to bring the smile out of that serious face of his. He treated her gentle, like she liked, treated her like the princess he knew she was. 

One afternoon, she pulled him back from her neck and gave him a strange look. "He never told you the whole story, did he?" she asked.

"Hn?" He was partially curious as to what had caused her outburst, but he was far more interested in getting back to the business of making sure she wore a high-necked dress the next day.

"King," she said, "he ain't never told you the whole story. The whole story of Broomhilda and Siegfried."

"What's there to know? Mountain, dragon, fire." He leaned back down and lightly nipped her neck. "Save the princess, end of story."

"There's more than that-- C'mon, quit it for a second; I can't think with you treatin' me like sugar candy!" She bopped him on the nose and pulled him down with her, until his head was on her breast. "See, there's this witch, and she's real set on her daughter marrying Siegfried, 'cause he's some big hero."

He nods. He's always had a fondness for stories, and Hildy, in his opinion, was the best storyteller. (Don't tell Schultz.)

"So, she casts her spell on him, makin' him forget all about Broomhilda and marry her kid instead. Then, her son decides he's sweet on Broomhilda, but he's too chicken to ride through the fire like Siegfried did."

"'Cause he's not a hero like Siegfried is," Django said, with just a hint of pride in his voice.

"So Siegfried does it for him."

"Why'd he do somethin' stupid like that?"

"Like you said, he's the hero. Heroes do all kinds of stupid stuff." She kissed the top of his head. "So Broomhilda marries this other guy."

"That's the end?"

"No."

"It gets worse, don't it?"

"It's German. 'Course it gets worse," she said. "Broomhilda finds out about their little switch and she's real mad, so she tricks her husband into killin' him."

"Why him?"

"'Cause the heroes get blamed for everythin', too. It ain't that great, bein' a hero." She pulled him closer to her and kissed him again. "And that's the end."

Django was starting to think that maybe he was wrong, and Schultz was the better storyteller. (Not that he would ever tell Hildy that.) "I think we oughta just skip the stories from now on," he said.

"Or I'll just tell nicer ones."

"I got a few of my own." He found the spot on her neck again and drowned out his thoughts with her wild giggling. Maybe things didn't turn out alright for the original Broomhilda and Siegfried-- but things were a lot different for them, so they could make up their own ending. One without any dragons at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god I have been sick for like ten million years I hope I don't die before I finish this series  
> whine whine whine  
> this isn't even porn what have I done


	3. spring, 1860

The winter snow was just starting to melt in the springlike warmth of the sun, leaving the ground muddy and slushy. Their boots squelched when they walked through it, and Django wondered how in the hell they were supposed to shoot a deer if it heard them coming from a mile away.

And yet, there it was, a five-point buck limp on the patchy grass, red speckling the last lumps of white. Schultz couldn't have been more excited if he'd bagged a million dollar bounty. "Fantastic shot!" he crowed, inspecting the kill. "You haven't lost your touch, my boy."

He found himself kissing the man, tipping his hat up to get better access to his face, in a moment of forgetfulness. The woods were far enough away from the city that you rarely saw anyone, just the occasional fellow hunter or adventuring child, but Schultz always waived off those possibilities as ones they could take care of easily. Django knew how they'd deal with the first one-- bullet to the head, unmarked grave, hope nobody cared too much back home. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how they'd deal with the kid.

He'd been wondering about Schultz for a while. It seemed like he knew everything about them-- mostly because they'd told him-- while they didn't know a damn thing about him-- because he hadn't told them shit. What did they really know? He was from Germany, and had been a dentist, and had once had some kind of family that must have loved him. That was it. As the days went by, Django started to have questions, and felt entitled to some answers. They'd known each other long enough, in the biblical sense. It was high time Schultz started talking.

"Hey, Doc," he said, as they hitched the buck up to Fritz and Tony for the ride back into town, "where's your wife at?"

That seemed to throw Schultz offguard. He blinked a few times, and then became very facinated with his horse's bridle. "Oh, I couldn't say," he said. "I haven't seen her in many years. I assume she would still be in Germany, where I left her."

"Think she's still alive?"

"Most likely. My Paula was always a hardy soul." He smiled at Django, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You have something on your mind, Django. I can tell. You always get this little furrow in your brow when you want to ask a question."

"Not really sure I wanna know the answer."

He extends his arms, palms up, as if to show he had nothing on him. "It's always better to put everything out in the open, I've found," he said. "Go on. Ask your question."

"Why'd you leave her?"

There was a sharp intake of breath. "I hope you don't assume I did it with anything less than the heaviest heart," he said. "If there had been any other viable paths, I would have taken them."

Whatever Schultz saw on Django's face, he clearly didn't like it. He cleared his throat and began, "Once upon a time, there was a young man and his wife, who lived in a small cottage next to a river. They were barren, but very happy. He was a dentist and she was his assistant, and they did very well for themselves traveling to the nearby villages in their wagon and treating the people there.

"Across the river lived the man's brother and his family, a beautiful wife and a strapping son. The brother was a farmer, and did quite well for himself as well. He was well-known in the area for being generous with his money and kindness.

"Well, one day, he happened to have an incident involving some nasty individuals who wanted quite a lot of generosity, and shot him dead. 

"The young man, who had more grief than sense, left the following night with his wagon, his horse, and a shotgun he had never even learned to use, intent on hunting down the men who had murdered his brother. He followed them across the continent, learning how to shoot, how to lie, how to track and kill a man the way you would a wild animal. And when he learned they had made their way to that lawless frontier known as America, he snuck aboard the first cargo ship out of Rotterdam... and the rest is, of course, history. My history."

"You ever find 'em?"

He nodded, and gave his left breast pocket a gentle pat. "The Strauss brothers. Harald and Karl. They were my first bounty."

"So, why're you still here?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You got your revenge, right? That's how the story ends. What kept you from goin' back to your woman?"

"If only all stories ended so neatly, Django." Schultz rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "To be completely honest, the first thing that kept me was money. The brothers weren't a very large bounty, and I didn't even have enough to pay smugglers to get me out of Charleston... So, I kept on collecting bounties, and the years went by... And then our stars align, and I suppose I haven't paid it much though since then."

The horses whickered to get their attention, so they began to saddle up. "You regret it any?" 

For a moment, Schultz's eyes seemed far away. Then, he shrugged. "Would it make the world any different if I did?" He took up Fritz's reigns. "Come. Brunhilde must be wondering where we are."

By the time they reached town, way off in South Carolina, war had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay the last two not being porn actually worked out well for my Overarching Plan so everyone act like I did that shit on purpose okay

**Author's Note:**

> order of preference
> 
> think i have just given up tagging this shit idek what i am doing anymore


End file.
